Instead of running the Mount Summit Challenge on April 26, 2020, canceled because of the coronavirus, I wanted to replicate the elevation gain in some way, but off the beaten path. The Mount Summit Challenge climbs 3.5 miles with 1,200 feet of elevation gain, an arduous uphill road race that I so love.

For my trail challenge, and keeping with the spirit of the Summit's steepness, I chose the 10.36-mile (according to my Garmin fenix5s) point-to-point Pine Knob to Whitetail Trail, because the starting location is at Lick Hollow, about the two-mile point of the Mount Summit Challenge. Instead of climbing up the two-lane pavement of Route 40, I would be climbing through the woods.

The first four miles of Pine Knob to Whitetail gains 1,125 feet in elevation, followed by the route's steepest climb (from mile four to five), which gains 519 feet in that single mile. In other words, 1,634 feet of gain within five miles, on tricky terrain - close enough for me to the Summit's profile!

I crossed the invisible finish line, stopping my watch, after the climb out of the creek in Quebec Run Wild Area, after crossing the dirt Quebec Road, when both feet hit the North Gate parking lot, signifying the now official finish.

Mile zero to one to two: I started at the sign pictured above, which sits in the grass near the road/first bridge you cross when entering Lick Hollow Picnic Area; Run through the swampy grass to the loose, wet, muddy rocks to start, then turn right at the Pine Knob sign, where the narrow, sloping trail begins it's ascent. The switchback made it's hard right-hand turn when my watch was at approximately one mile

Mile one to two: Narrow, pretty, trail (pictured below). Turn left at the Whitetail sign at about 1.5 miles, then quickly turn left onto the slick-mud forest service road (Pine Knob Road). For the FKT route, skip the Pine Knob Overlook by making these two left-hand turns, which keep you heading directly on the Pine Knob to Whitetail traverse. The overlook veers away from the main trail and sits off to the right

Mile two to three: Run along the wide road for one mile then turn right, back onto the wooded, moss-covered path. Wide downhill leading to the Redstone Creek crossing. Follow the red blazes!

Mile three to four: Crossing and then climbing out of Redstone Creek - keep your eyes on the red blazes

Mile four to five: With 1,125 feet of elevation covered, this is the biggest climb, at 519 feet in one mile. I whipped out my Leki Micro Trail Race Pro poles and used them for half a mile, still coming to a walk, resulting in the slowest lap of the run. This was the only part where I used the poles - they took away some of the burning in the legs!

Mile five to six: Fun, narrow path begins again, gradual climbing, crossing a clear cut with two helpful Whitetail Trail signs to guide the way

Mile six to seven: At 10K,pass the Skyline Drive parking lot, then at about 6.5 miles, cross the double-lane Skyline Drive

Miles seven to eight: Playful single-track

Mile eight to nine: The mileage here is approximate - the trail comes out to a wide gravel road, requiring a left-hand turn. It is framed by many trees with blue markings, sometimes with other colored markings, with some indication of logging. Keep watching the red blazes, follow the gravel which turns into dirt which turns into grass, eventually bearing left and then right to run downhill to enter Quebec Run Wild Area. This is the steepest downhill of the route at 377 feet of loss.

Mile nine to finish (10.36 miles): Cross a clear cut with briers, run through the refreshing, frigid creek (feet will get wet), bear right to climb to the finish. I ran across the dirt road, Quebec Road, and stopped my watch when both feet hit the parking area, signifying the end of the route, the finish line.

Please note that I have come to know this route very well over time, like the back of my hand, I have become acquainted with every turn and nuance, providing for zero time wasted on navigating or trying to locate blazes. ​

Mount Summit Challenge, I dedicate this run to you and all the friends and family I missed seeing there this year. I hope to see you next year.

When the April Mount Summit Challenge and Laurel Highlands 50K were both canceled, I was a little bummed, but it was a fleeting feeling. I got over it in about five minutes and thought, what can I do for fun instead of these races?

On Tuesday, April 21, I threw on running shorts, laced up my trail shoes, drove the short distance to Bear Run, and ran the Red Loop followed by the White Loop, 5.47 miles at a 9:07/mile pace in 49 minutes and 50 seconds.

Neither route qualified as FKTs, as they were too short in distance - I had a feeling before submitting that this would be the case.

I had plans to run the wonderful and difficult 11.9-mile (according to maps, but according to my Garmin fenix, 11.5-mile) Black Loop for the finale of my FKT mission, but sought approval from the FKT authorities beforehand.

They said yes, the Black Loop represents the best route, the most and only FKT-worthy and Bear Run.

So, the next day, Earth Day, April 22, still revved and ready from the tune-up run the night before, I poured some scoops of Skratch electrolyte mix into my hydration bladder, stuffed it into my running vest, tossed on shorts, and was off.

The sun was shining, and I was quickly in the zone and zoned out, loving every foot strike, caught up in the moment, no thoughts in my head, just moving my body, keeping a natural rhythm and pace, dancing upon the rocks and through the mud.

The miles flew by, and soon it became clear that I would break two hours.

I charged up the final hill, sprinted down the gravel road straightaway, across the road and parking lot and broke the invisible tape, lungs searing, legs burning, so happy and pleased with simply giving it my all.

As the first person to establish an FKT at Bear Run, I deemed the start line and finish line to be in the exact same location, where the post that says "Trail head" sits, where dirt meets the pavement of the parking lot.

11.5 miles in 1 hour, 58 minutes, 47 seconds, and my second FKT was in the books!

Check out the details of the run, plus mile-by-mile descriptions below.

Please note that the Black Loop is one that I have come to know well over time, like the back of my hand, I have become acquainted with every turn and nuance, providing for zero time wasted on navigating or trying to locate blazes.

Mile two - the first climb, which is the third steepest climb of the entire route, framed by flowing ups and downs, creek crossings, foot bridges, with the technical, rocky character that makes of the majority of the trail beginning here

Miles 3 to 4.7 - a series of long climbs, mostly on wide, non-technical double track, gaining about 800 feet over these miles, none of it requiring walking

Miles five to six - winding, fun descent, a return to the single-track, rocky nature of the trail

Mile six - this is where it gets really fun - lots of rocks requiring fun footwork and focus

Mile seven - the trail turns downhill, and at about 7.2 miles, it crosses the main road, Rt. 381, to head toward the ridge line running above the Lower Yough River

Miles 7.5 to 9 - creeks, foot bridges, the view of the Yough, running above the railroad tracks, very little climbing but the wettest part of the trail with big, loose rocks, hillsides of wild ramps in the springtime and wildflowers

Mile 10 - the day that I ran it, this is where the most storm damage covered the trail, with tree trunks piled upon tree tops higher than my head, requiring scrambling under, over, and around and/or skirting off trail, losing some seconds here for sure but not too bad - it's not always this bad with downed trees

Mile 10.5 to 11 - the second biggest climb of the entire route, covering 385 feet as the trail turns left away from the river

Mile 11 to finish - wide grassy trail that turns right to a wide gravel road, with a clear view of Rt. 381 straight ahead, where the trail will cross back to the trail head/parking lot

Here's to the fun and love of running, with a huge shout-out to the FKT keepers!

​It was fast. He got sick, I got pregnant, he died, I gave birth to you. He was supposed to live longer, I was supposed to hand your tiny newborn body to him after he got better, recovered, and we would all be happy, laugh at how sick he was, and celebrate your birth and his survival.

Death and birth happened at nearly the same time, four weeks apart, death coming first. Insomnia plagued me for six years after these events, from June 1, 2013, the day my dad died, until sometime during the summer of 2019, after your baby brother turned two.

To escape insomnia, because what the hell else could I do when I couldn’t sleep, I ran, and to manage and make sense of what happened to my strong, invincible, only 61-year-old dad, I ran, until the berating mind eased, the blaming of myself faded... why didn’t I intervene into his two-pack-a-day smoking habit? I could’ve saved him if I prodded him to stop, but it was easier to let him do his thing than to go up against a 40-year-old habit… still, it’s my fault, I should have spoken up, fought harder, then he would have lived to meet his first grandchild (you)…

Eventually the litany of these what if’s, these useless, sickening weights subsided with more miles, more running, until I got pregnant again, had Grey, and returned to the trails, and suddenly I was up in mileage enough to go the 50K distance, twice in one year, plus a trail marathon, half marathons, 25Ks, and more, more running, always more running.

I ran to run from the pain, then through the pain, then with the pain, feeling it all. Running was the therapy, nature the backdrop where grief became denial which transformed to anger which turned into bargaining and finally, acceptance.

Running held me gently as I pounded out the agony, wiped my tears, rinsed myself clean. It was the beautiful creation, the transfiguration, the act of turning something downright depressing, debilitating, into something uplifting, fulfilling, peaceful.

Miracles graced us and connected me to your grandfather in surreal, serendipitous ways, which led me to keep at it, to keep running, so that I could be with him. In keeping at it, I gradually built up to running farther, longer.

Avie, running a 50K was the result of processing my dad's, your grandfather's death. The farther I ran, the more I raced, the more I was with him.

Now, let's get back to the origin of your question. You were directly referring to the 2019 Laurel Highlands Ultra when you giggled so sweetly and asked, "mom, why did you run a 50K?"

Running a 50K as a race, or any distance for that matter, is fueled by a desire to be, connect with other runners, to celebrate the distance, together enough, yet solo, the way I like it best. It's in racing that your grandfather finds me, or more often, welcomes me, before the racing has even begun, with his birth digits in my bib. The Laurel Highlands 50K was no exception - there he was, in bib form, as 520 (his birth date is 2-15-52), for the 14th time since his death.

You've witnessed it, Avie, you've heard the stories, seen the commemoration film. I race to spend the time with him that I wish he could be spending with you and Grey, with us, because it's within racing when he makes his presence so clearly, in-my-face known. How can I NOT chase it? In chasing him, he lives on, and as he lives on, the run, the race, takes on an entirely new meaning - one of rapture, jubilee, tribute.

His spirit lights me up, and from that divine source, I sprout wings and run, float, fly with the wind, like a wild, fearless wolf, playing, celebrating, through the mud and trees, feeling him and you and Grey and Eric and God simultaneously, lifting me higher, higher, higher.

Your grandfather's gift to me is his appearance at my races, and my gift to you, Avie, are the divine experiences he has given me, the stories, the bibs, the trophies, the medals, for you, for Grey.

Avie, I hope that you and Grey hold your grandpa, my race angel, the crazy, loving man you never met, in your hearts, filling you with faith and hope, and that it helps you understand why I run the way I do, why I ran a 50K.